Climbing Walls and Shit in Durham!

Days 16-18, Wednesday to Friday, October 26th-28th, 2011

Toby dropped me off at the train station, and it was a quick and easy trip to Durham, though the computers at the ticketing office were down, cutting it close, as always.

I was off to see Durham, a big uni-town in northern England, with a ton of history and beauty, much like York. Like in York, I was also staying with someone I didn’t know. Although, apparently I had met Lynn at a baseball game when I was really young (I was busy keeping score; besides a beer belly, I haven’t changed at all). Lynn went to graduate school with my Mom in Seattle and now teaches geography at Durham University (somebody/QS listed it as the 92nd ranked college in the world, so big ups to her).

Despite all that internet time at Toby’s, I kinda forgot to figure out directions to the university, and her particular college, because there are a million, and I was going to drop my bag off in her office and explore Durham for the day. One internet cafe stop (thank you netbook), a ton of fucking hills and about an hour and a half later (Durham isn’t that big, I just suck, especially without a map), I found it.

Like every self respecting English town, Durham has a massive and pretty cathedral, and a castle (the castle was under construction…?). It’s free to go in and look around even. And apparently there’s a restaurant where you can drink, which seems odd while services are going on. I explored the Durham indoor market and had a corn beef square and apple raspberry pie for like 1 pound total. Then a pint of Deuchar’s IPA at The Shakespeare (I had to), an old hole in the wall that’s one of the most haunted buildings in Durham, if that tickles your fancy. Along with old men, it also had wi-fi, amazingly.

Random note: I feel like British people have less pets than Americans.

That afternoon I returned to Lynn’s college, and didn’t find her in office, so I kind of awkwardly waited down the hall. She actually passed me once and we looked at each other, not wanting to make a mistake. But then I checked her office again, the door was open, and walked in, scaring her half to death (I didn’t knock). Lynn is a short, stout, blonde woman, and her Geography class looks like a casting call for a Revenge of the Nerds remake (why wasn’t I invited?). We meet her husband Nel for a pint at a neighborhood pub the Queen’s Head, then ate a late dinner at their place: beef chin stew on pasta. It was incredible, and apparently the beef was leftover. The English use different/all parts of the cow, and after having chin, I can see why.
That night I had my first dose of porn since leaving home. Don’t worry, I was discrete and clean about it.

The next day I went for a walk with Nel in the countryside. Nel is an outdoorsman, in much better shape than me despite being more than twice my age. He has a very deep voice that hides a faint English accent (he’s originally English but has lived in America for so long that most of it has fallen away). Wisdom seeps from the guy’s pores. The hike was damp, wet, foggy, as it should be. I couldn’t tell you where we went, but basically followed an old railway and through farms and walked up hills and hills plastered in cow/sheep shit. It was impossible to avoid it. I only have the one pair of shoes. Think about it.

Thank god they had a washing machine, though no dryers. They are very rare in Europe.
Later, I head into town to Vennel’s Cafe, an old time cafe down an alley and upstairs. I had a fruit pavlova as recommended by the server. Fucking incredible. Raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, cream and wafer/meringue. Best 3 pounds I spent. Note: food and drink is actually not too expensive in England if you know where to go, it’s just the exchange rate that fucking kills me. Every withdrawal is basically double what I get in USD dollars.
In York and in Durham, a lot of my down time I spent writing this damn blog, so that’s why I don’t have as many delightful anecdotes. So, sorry.

That night we had chorizo carbonara pasta, and dayum. Like Toby, Lynn fed me right. Nel came through, graciously allowing me a precious Langdale Ale, an amazing beer even warm from the England lake district, a place I will conveniently avoid on my travels. Whoops.

My last day in Durham I went on another adventure with Nel: to Hadrian’s Wall. I don’t know if Nel was saving it and was a little disappointed he couldn’t do it all in one go or not (it’s like 90km and is very popular for backpackers. It’s #892 on my list of trip ideas), but I’m so glad he took me. It was a very cool, windy drive fraught with bumps, pheasants (known simply as roadkill in England) and backroads to one of the most historic sights in England, and a UNESCO World Heritage site (collect all 936). Hadrian’s Wall is a Roman relic, built by a Roman emperor by the name of, wait for it, Hadrian, to keep out the Scots and fortify the English boundary. It’s amazing how much of it remains today (our boy built it in 122 AD), and also how short the damn thing is (some of it looked like it was a farm border) and how unnecessary as well (much of it is over massive cliffs that are pretty much impossible to climb/trespass, wall or no wall). Nel and I walked on, beside and drove along the wall for a few kilomitres/hours. Amazing views of the moors, farmland and countryside, as well as my first lochs, a preview for Scotland. Beautiful.

We stop in Hexham, a small town, and eat at Tap & Spile, where I have a sausage and bacon bap and a beer called Uncle Fester Ale. Score.
Then, I drop in to say goodbye to Lynn at her office, thank her (but not as thankful or intelligently as I wanted to), and Nel drops me off at the train station, off to Edinburgh.

I don’t know if Nel or Lynn will read this, but I can’t thank them enough. I think they sensed that I was ready to go to Scotland and keep moving, because I was dawdling and spending too much money in England (so I leave a place of free lodging sooner, stupid Andy), but I hope they didn’t misconstrue it as me wanting to get away from them. They have a wonderfully swanky farmhouse turned manor, with cable, are great cooks, and provided me with a glimpse into my parents life before they were married and had me. It was kinda cool and creepy (apparently my Dad talked about opening a restaurant even back then. Get on it, pops). I had a wonderful time, and definitely owe them a beer and a half. Also, a tank of gas (it’s amazing how much we complain about gas in America, but in Europe the prices are insane. It’s like 1.30…per liter).
Next: Edinburgh.